It calls Devotion! genuine growth of night! Devotion! Daughter of Astronomy! An undevout astronomer is mad!
An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave; legions of angels can't confine me there.
By night an atheist half-believes in God.
As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
And all may do what has by man been done.
Creation sleeps! 'T is as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause,- An awful pause! prophetic of her end.